"It's not a story. It's the past."
"Damn, is this yours?" I nod. Answering Harold's question while staring at my bike. My mother grumbled about how unsafe it is but at the end of the day, she loses to my father. I love bikes, dad knows that, so he convinced her. I hike up the backpack over my shoulder before giving up on walking to class.
I put on my helmet and get on it when my eyes meet his. "What?" I sigh. "You're just going to leave me here? Alone? Do you have any regard for friendship?"
"When did we become friends?" He gapes, betrayed by my words. As if. I give him a helmet and he gets behind me, holding tight around my waist. "Get your hands off me."
"I don't wanna die. So just drive." What am I? His chauffeur? I turn the key and we ride to our class together. We don't share classes as I'm here for architecture and he is here for god knows what, I never asked. But we do share mythology.
I share that subject with a lot of people. That annoying reptilian being one of them. I park the bike and take off my helmet before looking down at Harold's hands still wound tightly around my waist. "Let go."
He holds tighter. "Why do you have to ride like you have nothing to live for?" Why do I only ever meet dumb fucks? "The ride is over now, let go."
"You two seem-" I look up towards the blonde girl, I think her name was Joe.
"Romantic." The lobster says. I push at Harold's hands and he gets off the bike to take his helmet off. I can fucking finally breathe. I thought he would break my goddamn ribs.
"What did I tell you about crossing me, little lobster?"
"Stop fucking calling me that!"
"Okay, please, not here. We are late for class." Joe pulls her psychotic flatmate away while mine sighs at me. "Grow up, will you?" I glare at him. "I wasn't the one crying for my life over that bike."
"Shut up! Don't say that in front of other people." I flick my wrist in his face and walk ahead. "I need to get to class and get the first seat before it's taken." He follows hot on my tail. "Who the fuck sits on the first seat? What are you twelve?"
"People that are actually serious about their careers sit there." He rolls his eyes as if I aggravate him. He aggravates me more, I just know how to control my emotions. I set my bag down and take a seat while Harold joins me. What is he, twelve?
I turn and the seats beside us are taken by the fucking lizard and her friend. She glares, I glare back. Her monolid eyes twitch and she looks like a cartoon character. Something is very wrong with her brain.
"Well, morning class!" We both turn to the front, watching a tall woman put her papers down on the teacher's desk. She wears a pencil skirt, white shirt and a coat jacket. Her hair is up in a twist and she has glasses over her nose. Pretty similar to what my glasses look like. I don't wear mine often, choosing to put on lenses most of the time.
YOU ARE READING
Qayamat
Storie d'amoreWhat is more important? Uncovering the truth that has been hidden for hundreds of years? Or your own life? ----- The one infuriating thing he has had to face since he was a child was her. She challenged him at every given chance, constantly competed...